


A night to remember

by MissAn0nymus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fem!Harry, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-12-25 22:03:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12045195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAn0nymus/pseuds/MissAn0nymus
Summary: When Snape sees a memory of Harriet being raped, it leads to a relationship of the ages.





	1. Chapter 1

Worthless. Disgusting. Faggot. Bitch. Whore. Freak. All words I've been called, all words carved into my back by my 'oh so loving’ Uncle. The blood running down my wrist is quickly wiped away by an already bloody cloth. I cast a quick healing spell and pull the sleeve of my robes down. I'm going to be late for my first lesson in occlumency. Joy.

 

I inwardly groan as I knock on Professor Snape’s door.

 

“Enter.” His voice booms. I do as I'm told, sitting down once the door had been shut and locked. “Miss Potter, do you mind explaining to me why you are late?”

 

“Female issues.” I lie, hoping it takes. I relax and clear my mind, just as the books I had been given said to.

 

“Legilimency.” He says, not giving me any sort of warning.

 

I gasp as he enters my memories, starting with the less guarded ones, me and my friends, my first time riding a broom, etc. He now moves to the ones with some guarding, my kiss with Cho, the time Uncle Vernon had forced me to take a cookie sheet out of the oven with my bare hands, about a week ago when I cut myself again. Finally he goes to my closest kept secrets, the first time masturbating (which he skipped past), Vernon carving the offending words into my back and burning me with his cigar several times in several places, and finally, the first time Vernon had raped me.

 

It was several summers ago, and I had broken Aunt Petunia’s favorite vase (on accident, of course). Uncle Vernon was furious, so he sent her and Dudley to the movies, leaving him and I alone. He had dragged me upstairs by my hair, slamming my head into the wall when ever I was too slow, and tossed me onto his bed. He ordered me to strip, and I obliged, knowing what would happen if I didn't. He bent me over the bed as I silently sob into the sheets. The memory is cut off when the sound of his zipper being pulled down is heard.

 

As soon as I'm out of my memories, I scramble for the door, unlock it, and run to the nearest bathroom. Many minutes of crying later I'm finally calm enough to make a coherent thought.

 

Snape had found out. Snape would tell Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Pomfrey. Dumbledore would tell the Ministry and the Muggle police. Mr. Weasley would find out. He would tell the rest of the Weasleys. Ron would tell Hermione. Everyone I care about would know and judge me.

 

Not would, will.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, after making a multitude of excuses for my absence, I head to class, skipping breakfast, knowing full well that Snape would be there. Professor McGonagall is surprised I came so early that she calls me Hermione, making us both laugh.

 

When it comes time to go to potions, I hide in the restroom, legs curled into me, letting the tears run silently down my cheeks.

 

Many hours later and I still haven't moved, scared of what would happen when I leave here. I missed half the day, people will notice and send out a search party.

 

Maybe if I show up to dinner… but then Snape would make me talk, that is if he hasn't already told Dumbledore, then HE would make me talk. I decide to face the problem head on and head down to his office right now.

 

I enter his room and sit in a chair, nervously fiddling with the sleeve of my robe. Sitting like this for who knows how long, my anxieties grow, making me consider bailing, but when I’m about to make my escape, the door behind me opens.

 

“Miss Potter.” He says, as if he’s been expecting me.

 

“Professor.” I respond curtly, eyes on my shoes. I see him out of the corner of my eyes walking past me and sitting in the chair next to me.

 

“Let’s get the easiest out of the way.” He pauses. “Please remove your concealment charms and show me your arms.” I do so, still looking down. It’s obvious I should have picked up on the cutting topic. I’m so stupid.

 

“How long have you been doing this, Miss Potter?” He asks in a level voice, gently holding my wrist as he spreads a cream on it.

 

I shrug. “Since I was 11, after the winter break at the Dursley’s, when I got back here.”

 

A tense silence follows suit, making me even more uncomfortable than I already was. Soon, after both my forearms are covered in the salve, he says, “I would like to assess the… marks… on your back.”

 

I slowly get up, turn around, and remove my top layers. I, facing away from him, sit back down. Gently, fingers spread the warm cream across my scars. When he is finished, I place my shirt on and face towards him, still looking at my shoes.

 

“Now, about what I saw.” He pauses. “Please tell me what you can.”

 

Stupid, I can't pick up on anything. “It was a few summers ago.”

 

“Has he ever done that before?”

 

“No, he usually just made me… please him.” I shudder slightly. “He's done it since then, but that was… I've never…” I can't finish the thought, memories too painful for pathetic me.

 

“Have you ever had a single positive sexual experience?” I shake my head. “Do I have to explain that sex is supposed to be something beautiful and you shouldn't be afraid of it?” I shake again. “This is something I must inform Professor Dumbledore of.”

 

My eyes snap up, brimming with unshed tears. “You can't.”

 

“I understand that it’s an uncomfortable topic, but-”

 

“If he knows, then others will find out and hate me.” I picture my friends’ faces, disgust and horror covering them.

 

“No one will hate you.”

 

I scoff, crossing my arms. “Yeah, because people will LOVE the fact that the great ‘Girl who lived’, who is supposed to kill you know who, can’t even defend herself against a fat, disgusting muggle.” I look down at the ground and mutter, “I’m worthless.”

  
Suddenly arms engulf me in a hug and I allow myself to let out a sob, but that one action opens the floodgates, bawling, clutching my most hated teacher’s cloak as I struggle to breath


End file.
